


Tired

by Dreaming_of_Fairys



Series: When We Take Different Paths [4]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Anxiety, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Hot Chocolate, M/M, Other, Pampering, Rain, Rated Teen just because Sting swears when he's stressed haha, Rogue goes by they/them pronouns because I can't call them he/him anymore lmao, Sleepy Cuddles, Sting can be the worrywart boyfriend too, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr: FTLGBTales, WWTDP, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:32:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16266164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_Fairys/pseuds/Dreaming_of_Fairys
Summary: When Rogue doesn't come home before the storm picks up, Sting gets worried for his partner's safety. When Rogue finally shows up soaking wet at the door, Sting's protective instincts kick in, and he sets off to pamper and comfort his exhausted other half.





	Tired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheDarkGodMogar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkGodMogar/gifts).



> Hello everyone! This is for WWTDP MLM Week, for the prompt Tired.
> 
> [Also I'm gifting this to my best friend who is basically my older brother TheDarkGodMogar because I love him and he needs some fluff in his life right now.]
> 
> I know technically this isn't MLM? Since Rogue's going by they/them pronouns? BUT Stingue was one of the ships chosen, and canonically they're MLM...? (Literally this is just me unable to write Rogue as cis anymore outside of fics where that was already established...sorry, I have no excuse except that HEADCANONS ARE POWERFUL LITTLE FUCKERS.) So yeah, I might be bending the rules a bit, but whatever :P It's not even a plot point, tbh.
> 
> Anyways I hope you all enjoy this extremely fluffy gay mess! Let me know what you think in the comments <3

Cold rain pours down from the cloudy sky, the sounds of droplets hitting against the windows and roof a somber symphony. Tendrils of gray smoke curl from a chimney before they are carried away by the whispering wind. Inside the old house, an array of half-melted candles flicker and burn, bathing the room with a gentle, yellow-orange glow.

Sting sits alone on the worn red couch, fiddling with the blanket wrapped around his body. He glances up at the clock on the wall, listening to it rhythmically click in time with the pitter patter of the rain, a metronome for the weather’s melancholy song. Each click, despite maintaining a steady beat, feels like an accelerating countdown. Sting’s quickening heartbeat only adds to the effect as his worry spikes into a crescendo.

He can’t sit still and wait any longer.

Where the _hell_ is Rogue?

As if answering his silent question, a loud knock sounds on the door. Sting leaps from the couch, the blanket falling to the floor. His heart pounds faster against his ribs as he stumbles to the door, his anxiety ready to explode from inside of him. He throws the door open, desperation clawing in his throat as he cries out, “Rogue-!”

The sight before him doesn’t do much to quell the raging storm in his chest. His partner stands before him soaking wet, their dripping hair falling out of its’ ponytail. Their cape is in tatters, their clothes are soaked completely through, and their skin is paler than ever.

“Oh, Rogue-” Sting gasps, immediately grabbing their wrist and pulling them into the house. “Get inside, get out of the rain-”

The wind closes the door behind the two of them, and the sound makes Rogue jump slightly. They open their mouth to say something, but Sting rambles on. “I need to get you out of these clothes-” he yanks at Rogue’s ruined cape, “-and maybe make some coffee, or some tea, or maybe hot chocolate-!” He tosses the cape to the floor, then plows onward without a breath, “Let me get you a towel, or maybe two-!”

By the time he returns, Rogue manages to peel most of their cold, wet clothes off of themselves. Standing there dripping in only their boxers, they shiver violently and keep their eyes pointed to the floor. Sting hands them a towel, then moves behind them to undo their ponytail. He wrings the water out into the towel, then dries Rogue’s hair best he can. “There...that should help a lot.”

Rogue finishes drying the water off of their body. Their lips, tinted with blue, part slightly as they try to speak. But once again, Sting doesn’t give them a chance. “Clothes! Right, a change of clothes.” He takes off down the hallway again, returning back in record time with sweatpants, a baggy sweater, some fuzzy socks, and dry boxers. “There! You put those on, I’m gonna get some uhmmm...I guess I’ll make hot chocolate.” He smiles at Rogue sheepishly. “I promise I won’t burn it this time.”

With that, he’s gone again into another room. Trembling hands gather ingredients from the fridge and pantry, accidently click teacups together, and set a kettle on the stove with a noisy _clang_. The woosh of the stove when it lights into a crisp crackling fire makes Sting nervous. He doesn’t want to ruin Rogue’s cocoa for them again. He’s never been a good cook, but he’ll keep trying again and again if it’s to help Rogue.

As the water takes its sweet time to heat up, Sting paces the kitchen. One after another, he runs his fingers through his hair, shuffles his feet, taps a finger against his thigh, and twiddles his thumbs.

When the water finally finishes a few moments later, he stirs the warm drinks, adds whipped cream to his own, and pads into the living room. Rogue sits on the couch, knees pulled up to their chest, still shivering slightly despite the warmth from the fireplace. Sting drapes the soft blanket over Rogue’s shoulders, hands them the mug of hot coffee, then sinks onto the couch beside them. “Better?”

Rogue turns to meet Sting’s eyes, holding the hot chocolate in both of their pink hands. “Thank you…” they whisper, leaning close to him. “I’m...exhausted.”

“Talk.” Sting presses a gentle kiss to Rogue’s cheek. “Tell me everything, love.”

Rogue inhales slowly, body shivering, and presses closer to Sting. “Well...Minerva and Rufus wanted some help with these ancient texts they discovered in the back of the guild library. So, I went to the guild to help them, but on the way a bunch of the townspeople kept stopping me and asking for my help with all of these mundane problems… By the time I got to the guild, I was soaked and exhausted… We then spent most of the day pouring over the books and scrolls… And then, of course, the rain picked up horribly on the way home…” They shudder violently as if remembering the moment. “It was miserable…”

A small, sad smile crosses Rogue’s lips. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining. I’m assuming your Guild Master work was far more difficult than my silly little problems.”

Sting is tempted to start venting himself, but when he sees his partner shaking and their teeth chattering from the cold, his worry for them overpowers all other negative thoughts. “This isn’t about me. I was worried about _you_. I don’t think your problems are any less important than mine.” He snuggles even closer to them to try and warm them up more, then sips at his hot chocolate.

“You-” Rogue begins, then cuts themselves off with laughter. Blushing slightly, a grin spreads across their face. “You have a whipped cream mustache.”

“Does it make me look dignified?” Sting replies cheekily, then licks it off of his upper lip.

Rogue chuckles and shakes their head. “More like adorable.” They drink more of their hot chocolate, smiling as warmth fills their body. Leaning in towards Sting, they place a tender kiss on his slightly sticky lips. “I’m so lucky to have a partner like you, Sting. You take such good care of me.”

“Only because you do the same for me,” Sting hums, pulling his legs under him so he can sit cross-legged.

“That’s what a relationship is, my love,” Rogue says, pulling the blanket tighter around them. Their body has stopped shivering, their flushed cheeks have returned to normal, and their lips are no longer tinted with blue. “We take care of each other.”

“Even before we were dating you took such good care of me,” Sting admits. “Ever since we were kids, it was always you looking out for me, and you never used to let me pamper you in return. Even now it’s like I have to force you to let me treat you.”

Rogue glances down into their hot chocolate. “I don’t want to be a burden,” they reply, the words so quiet they are almost drowned out by the rain.

“You’ll never be a burden to me.” Sting reaches forward and gently tilts Rogue’s chin upwards so he can stare right into their eye, worried red meeting determined blue. “Because I love you. I would do anything for you, you know.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Rogue chides him, their smile starting to return. “ _Anything_? Give up food? Do paperwork for fifty years without stopping? Admit to Natsu you used to be a huge fanboy of his?”

“Not what I meant-!” Sting yelps, laughing as he lightly elbows them in the side. “Now _you’re_ the one being ridiculous! I was trying to be all cute and romantic and you ruined it!”

“Welcome to my world,” Rogue quips slyly, smirking at Sting over the rim of their mug.

“Wipe that smart-ass smirk off your face!” Sting cries, but he’s laughing too, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re lucky you’re holding a hot drink right now or you’d be in for it!”

“You love this smirk,” Rogue chuckles, then leans in for another kiss. Their breath tastes like dark chocolate, and Sting can’t bring himself to pull away. He gets as close as he can to Rogue without risking a spill, melting into the kiss with a loving sigh.

“Sting-” Rogue gently pushes him away. “Let me finish warming up first, and then you can kiss me all you want.” They smile at him lovingly. “I wouldn’t want this delicious hot chocolate you made for me to get cold, after all.” They take another long drink, then ask him, “You used dark chocolate, didn’t you?”

Sting blushes pink and averts his eyes. “Mayyybe…” He rubs the back of his neck. “That...that is the way you like it, right?”

Rogue nods and drinks more, humming in satisfaction. “Mmmm...mhm.” They swallow, then kiss Sting’s cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“ _You’re_ perfect,” Sting replies, then starts giggling at how cheesy that sounded.

“Why, Sting-” Rogue gasps in mock surprise, “-that sounded rather gay.”

“That’s why I said it,” Sting teases, sticking his tongue out. Rogue chuckles at him, and Sting quickly swoops in and steals another quick kiss, tasting the laughter on Rogue’s lips.

The kiss breaks when Rogue suddenly yawns, mouth going wide and eyes closing. Sting wraps an arm around their shoulders, amused. “Tired, Rogue?”

“Apparently.” Rogue downs the rest of their hot chocolate in one gulp, then sets the empty mug on the coffee table. “I probably could use some sleep…” They rest their head on Sting’s shoulder and snuggle close, yawning again.

Sting chugs his drink and puts it down as well, holding back a yawn of his own. “C’mere.” He gently lifts Rogue’s head from his shoulder, then scootches over on the couch and leans back.

Rogue lies down, curls up under the blanket, and rests their head on Sting’s lap. They sigh as Sting’s fingers start to play with their hair, the movement soothing and slow.

“Sting?” they whisper, eyes starting to fall closed. Their face, bathed in warm candlelight, is the most beautiful thing Sting’s ever seen. Their hair, splayed out across Sting’s lap, is still slightly damp, but in a way that feels nice between Sting’s fingers.

“Thanks again…” Rogue says, looking up at him through half-open, ruby red eyes. “I love you so much…”

“You’re welcome.” Sting leans down and kisses their forehead, smiling as Rogue’s eyes close immediately. “And I love you more.”

Rogue mumbles something in response, likely trying to argue or one-up him, but Sting only chuckles and keeps stroking their hair. “Shhh...sleep.”

Once Rogue falls silent in his lap, Sting sits back and gazes out the huge window. The rain continues to pour down from the sky, streaking across the glass in different patterns. Before, he couldn’t acknowledge how beautiful it really looked due to his own bustling, anxious mind. But now that Rogue is cuddled up safe and dry in his lap, all his fears extinguished, he watches the rain paint the windowpanes with wonder.

Sometimes, Sting decides, looking at Rogue’s soft features with fondness, even the most difficult of days can lead to a beautiful conclusion.


End file.
